Up the ladder. Load in. Down the ladder. Eat some chicken. Up the ladder, record a quick promo vid. Down the ladder to sign off. Up the ladder to go and meet the rest of the guys. Down the ladder because I've forgotten to bring any cash. It's a small miracle that we're even able to lift our things after that small marathon. Still, all in a days work I suppose, for the residents of Falmouth who frequent The Jacob's Ladder Inn... so who are we to complain?
Our third- or is it fourth? I can't remember. Our 'next-in-the-sequence-single-digit-number' of times playing this venue and it's as good a time as any. Small turnout and quiet to begin with, but that doesn't stop the crowd chanting 'Fuck You!' raucously by the end if the night. I... suppose that might require some explanation. But I don't feel like it yet. So, as they say, fuck you.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry...
But, like you may have heard somewhere, the hijinks are there. A big bloke with a beard changes the game early on. He's watching us play with a knowing glint in his eye. Something is about to go down and he knows it, but whatever it is that's happening, he ain't about to show his hand. Mr. Dinosaur slows down into it's middle section as the beard slowly slides off of his barstool...
Confidence in his stride, he swaggers into the middle of the floor. The room is his as he lifts his arms and starts lumbering around like ..well.. like a dinosaur. I love it, the crowd love it, Dan... doesn't love it... but he's CLEARLY loving it! And the ice is broken. Good thing, too. Tonight features a couple of slight alterations. A newly fashioned Birdman and Pirate (In My Heart (Again (For the Millionth Time))) are tried out for the first time. I think it goes well. My eyes are too sweaty for me to know for certain.
Somewhere down the line, a young woman points at Roger and whispers to her friend. She then proceeds to sit front and centre and observe him very, very carefully. He clocks this and somewhat suspiciously, his licks become more extravagant... his backing vocals more erratic and outlandish. He's clearly spraying his stink all over her, although he coyly denies it when brought to task.
People dance and sandals fly across the room as we come to the end of our set. Dan takes a moment to quite Duelling Banjos at the end of the last song and the oddest sensation fills the room. It's like laughter, but it's not quite real. It's almost as if someone switched on a tape of canned laughter. So very very odd as the crowd starts chanting their chorus of 'Fuck You.'
See, we played our Cee Lo cover earlier on and everyone seemed to love it. So their chanting is actually for us to play... well, that song. Time to get all frontmanny and get people singing. Because I'm ever so good at it, of course. My mad 'skillz' pay off once again as I call for people to sing the refrain.
One tiny little female voice in the corner of the room... 'fuckyoooooo!' Quality.
Knackered, the night ends and I crawl up to the bar. I ask the barman if I can have a pint. His response?
Yup.
'Fuck you!'
...igotthepintmindyou...
Setlist for 12/5/12
Quickstep
Inspector Katz
Made With Love
Fuck You (cover)
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
Mr. Dinosaur
Pirate (in my Heart)
El Miedo
Goose in 4D
Mary the Snowdeer, I Hate You
Birdman
A Miskito Called James
Hey Ya (cover)
Too Late to Mate
My Voice
Love is in the Sole
Dayglow
Herb the Taxi Driver
Chad
Lillipad Lover
---
Bonkers (cover)
The Rules
Fuck You (cover)
Thursday, 17 May 2012
Friday, 4 May 2012
Fart in a Mosh Pit
"Once I was out camping with the lads... and it started to rain," I tell the audience. All eyes in the room are on me as I begin my tale, "so I say to the guys... 'why didn't we bring umbrellas?' If we'd had umbrellas this would all be ok." So far so good... Roger's malfunction seems to have righted itself so it's time to bring this story to it's hilarious conclusion. This will absolutely slay them and they won't see it coming. "And the one girl who was there said: ' who are you people? And please stop sitting on my tent!'"
Absolute silence. I literally don't think I've ever been in a room full of people that have ever been this quiet. Nobody's even talking to each other it's THAT deathly. I turn to the rest of the band for some sort of support. They're looking back at me with a mixture of pity, confusion and mild annoyance. No luck there as I desperately ask Roger if he's ready to play.
What an absolute clanger. I'm actually surprised nobody walked out of the room. I only wish I could walk out of the room but we're halfway through our set at Bunters in support of Brother and Bones. And that one abomination of a humorous story aside, the night is actually going really well. And I mean, like, REALLY well. Since the last time we've played here the stage has been extended and there's a whole new lighting rig that absolutely blows my mind. Looking at it from the right angle I can almost convince myself that I'm playing the Hammersmith Apollo or some other famous venue.
Actually that would be quite a feat. Emptying HA with a story so pointless and asinine that people demand refunds. I must make it happen.
The room is jam packed. The room is actually at full capacity. B&B have sold out the entire venue and as such it's possibly one of the biggest local crowds we've ever played. And this selection of people have definitely been drinking their juice. YOU know the juice I mean. Roger informs me afterwards that some of the admirers at the front of the stage were actually verging on Beatlemania style hysteria at moments. Like when I took my jacket off. Just my jacket.
Screams.
I'm still wearing my t-shirt, mind you. My hair slathered in horrible sweat, giving me a huge, spiky afro. My ginger beard protrudes from my chin like a massive, wet, smelly sponge. Blood red lighting has given my face a rather shiny, evil looking sheen. In short, I look like Satan himself after a heavy workout and I should not be getting frenzied screams for attempting to shed my clothing.
Well, actually, maybe I should. But they'd absolutely be screams of terror...
"AAAGH! NO! PLEASE! PUT IT BACK ON!"
Lapping up the inordinate, but greatly appreciated amount of attention, I try to tell another story. Two for two I'm met with silence. But on the other hand, I do manage to get a room full of people - wall to wall - to make this noise:
Brrrrroooooghhhhhbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbbrrrrrr! And they're delighted to be making that noise. And I'm delighted to watch such a surreal sight take place before my eyes.
So, I guess that's... one for the books?
The gig finishes and a couple of lasses come up asking the band to sign their wristbands. They find themselves a pen and we get to it. I sign them and then Dan steps up to sign them.
Roger takes the pen and turns to the girls. Just in time to watch them turn around and walk off. And that's not the only denial he's met with tonight. Later on in the crowd watching B&B a bloke turns around and recognizes me. He gives me a fist bump and Roger spots him. In a moment that will stick with me for months, Roger extends his fist to get in on the action and is once more DENIED as the bloke absently turns his back on him. Roger is nothing if not consistent.
A pit starts out. A modest pit by most of my reader's standards I'm sure but one nonetheless. As the pit gets rowdier and rowdier, Roger makes me collapse into fits for the third time that night has he strikes a defensive pose from the perimiter edge. As the pit starts to undulate in his direction, he puts up his fists and starts jabbing at the pit in a boxing stance. He does not manage to stem the flow. All in all he's having a pretty rubbish night. I, on the other hand, am enjoying every minute of his night.
Unfortunately, I turn out to be that guy. And to anyone who experienced this moment with me in the pit that happens to be reading this, I can only apologize over and over again. I fart. I fart with as much intensity as I do shame. And believe me, I make my presence known. Duly chastized by Holly for my behaviour, I leave.
So all in all, that's one to beat. Thanks to all the supporters for their screamy, hysterical support, thanks to Brother and Bones for choosing us to support them and thanks to everyone reading. Had an absolutely awesome time.
Setlist for 4/5/12:
Quickstep
Inspector Katz
Too Late to Mate
Mr. Dinosaur
Lillipad Lover
El Miedo
Dayglow
Chad
Herb the Taxi Driver
Bonkers (cover)
The Rules
Absolute silence. I literally don't think I've ever been in a room full of people that have ever been this quiet. Nobody's even talking to each other it's THAT deathly. I turn to the rest of the band for some sort of support. They're looking back at me with a mixture of pity, confusion and mild annoyance. No luck there as I desperately ask Roger if he's ready to play.
What an absolute clanger. I'm actually surprised nobody walked out of the room. I only wish I could walk out of the room but we're halfway through our set at Bunters in support of Brother and Bones. And that one abomination of a humorous story aside, the night is actually going really well. And I mean, like, REALLY well. Since the last time we've played here the stage has been extended and there's a whole new lighting rig that absolutely blows my mind. Looking at it from the right angle I can almost convince myself that I'm playing the Hammersmith Apollo or some other famous venue.
Actually that would be quite a feat. Emptying HA with a story so pointless and asinine that people demand refunds. I must make it happen.
The room is jam packed. The room is actually at full capacity. B&B have sold out the entire venue and as such it's possibly one of the biggest local crowds we've ever played. And this selection of people have definitely been drinking their juice. YOU know the juice I mean. Roger informs me afterwards that some of the admirers at the front of the stage were actually verging on Beatlemania style hysteria at moments. Like when I took my jacket off. Just my jacket.
Screams.
I'm still wearing my t-shirt, mind you. My hair slathered in horrible sweat, giving me a huge, spiky afro. My ginger beard protrudes from my chin like a massive, wet, smelly sponge. Blood red lighting has given my face a rather shiny, evil looking sheen. In short, I look like Satan himself after a heavy workout and I should not be getting frenzied screams for attempting to shed my clothing.
Well, actually, maybe I should. But they'd absolutely be screams of terror...
"AAAGH! NO! PLEASE! PUT IT BACK ON!"
Lapping up the inordinate, but greatly appreciated amount of attention, I try to tell another story. Two for two I'm met with silence. But on the other hand, I do manage to get a room full of people - wall to wall - to make this noise:
Brrrrroooooghhhhhbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrbbrrrrrr! And they're delighted to be making that noise. And I'm delighted to watch such a surreal sight take place before my eyes.
So, I guess that's... one for the books?
The gig finishes and a couple of lasses come up asking the band to sign their wristbands. They find themselves a pen and we get to it. I sign them and then Dan steps up to sign them.
Roger takes the pen and turns to the girls. Just in time to watch them turn around and walk off. And that's not the only denial he's met with tonight. Later on in the crowd watching B&B a bloke turns around and recognizes me. He gives me a fist bump and Roger spots him. In a moment that will stick with me for months, Roger extends his fist to get in on the action and is once more DENIED as the bloke absently turns his back on him. Roger is nothing if not consistent.
A pit starts out. A modest pit by most of my reader's standards I'm sure but one nonetheless. As the pit gets rowdier and rowdier, Roger makes me collapse into fits for the third time that night has he strikes a defensive pose from the perimiter edge. As the pit starts to undulate in his direction, he puts up his fists and starts jabbing at the pit in a boxing stance. He does not manage to stem the flow. All in all he's having a pretty rubbish night. I, on the other hand, am enjoying every minute of his night.
Unfortunately, I turn out to be that guy. And to anyone who experienced this moment with me in the pit that happens to be reading this, I can only apologize over and over again. I fart. I fart with as much intensity as I do shame. And believe me, I make my presence known. Duly chastized by Holly for my behaviour, I leave.
So all in all, that's one to beat. Thanks to all the supporters for their screamy, hysterical support, thanks to Brother and Bones for choosing us to support them and thanks to everyone reading. Had an absolutely awesome time.
Setlist for 4/5/12:
Quickstep
Inspector Katz
Too Late to Mate
Mr. Dinosaur
Lillipad Lover
El Miedo
Dayglow
Chad
Herb the Taxi Driver
Bonkers (cover)
The Rules
Friday, 6 April 2012
"How Can I Tell Her? Um... Something Something."
It's been a bit of a while since the last time the band gigged. David Goo is starting to feel like a distant memory as we head down to Penzance for the opening night of 'G-Bar' (formally known as 'Q-Bar' - so top marks for creativity!) On the same bill as heavy rockers Sinpusher and the high octane Gary and the Minefield, we're a bit of an odd choice for opening act tonight. Picture an episode of Mr. Bean as the opening vignette before a Vin Diesel film and you're getting close to the mark. Do films even have opening vignettes anymore? It's been a while since I've done that, too...
Nonetheless, here we are. It's a pretty itchy feeling during soundcheck... singing the chorus to Lillipad Lover over and over (La la la la leap and sha la la la sleep together, ad nauseum) to a room of vaguely violent looking types feels both dangerous and humiliating in equal measures but you know, we're nothing if not soldiers! Soundcheck eventually finishes and we have a little downtime before playing.
It's during this rather uneventful downtime that I notice the bar is outfitted with an army of barmaids. It seems unfeasable the amount they have stood there waiting to spring into action... at this point, aside from the bands the staff probably outnumber the patrons significantly. Images of the six of them passing a single drink down a line to the end of the bar are particularly enduring and it's a little bit of a downer to think that this has probably been the highlight of the night so far.
Still, slowly the place fills as we stagger on through our set. As things move on, the fact that we haven't played a gig in a while slowly becomes apparent, for me at least. My vocals degenerate from a beautifully clear tenor into a series of grunts, growls and squeaks that I fight to form into cogent sentences. Business as usual, you might say... but please don't! In addition to this, the words to 'Too Late to Mate' are lost in the ether completely... I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be singing and to be honest, at the stage we're at it probably doesn't matter.
Our main sources of comfort are the appearance of some familiar, more than welcome faces and the fact that our selection of covers all go down amazingly. Wait, is that a source of comfort or is that actually kind of bad news?
Post-gig pizza all round it is then. How's THAT for comfort?
Setlist for 5/4/12:
Hey Ya
Chad
Lillipad Lover
El Miedo
Inspector Katz
A Miskito Called James
Mr. Dinosaur
D.U.I.
Too Late to Mate
F**k You
Quickstep
Herb the Taxi Driver
Bonkers
The Rules
Nonetheless, here we are. It's a pretty itchy feeling during soundcheck... singing the chorus to Lillipad Lover over and over (La la la la leap and sha la la la sleep together, ad nauseum) to a room of vaguely violent looking types feels both dangerous and humiliating in equal measures but you know, we're nothing if not soldiers! Soundcheck eventually finishes and we have a little downtime before playing.
It's during this rather uneventful downtime that I notice the bar is outfitted with an army of barmaids. It seems unfeasable the amount they have stood there waiting to spring into action... at this point, aside from the bands the staff probably outnumber the patrons significantly. Images of the six of them passing a single drink down a line to the end of the bar are particularly enduring and it's a little bit of a downer to think that this has probably been the highlight of the night so far.
Still, slowly the place fills as we stagger on through our set. As things move on, the fact that we haven't played a gig in a while slowly becomes apparent, for me at least. My vocals degenerate from a beautifully clear tenor into a series of grunts, growls and squeaks that I fight to form into cogent sentences. Business as usual, you might say... but please don't! In addition to this, the words to 'Too Late to Mate' are lost in the ether completely... I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to be singing and to be honest, at the stage we're at it probably doesn't matter.
Our main sources of comfort are the appearance of some familiar, more than welcome faces and the fact that our selection of covers all go down amazingly. Wait, is that a source of comfort or is that actually kind of bad news?
Post-gig pizza all round it is then. How's THAT for comfort?
Setlist for 5/4/12:
Hey Ya
Chad
Lillipad Lover
El Miedo
Inspector Katz
A Miskito Called James
Mr. Dinosaur
D.U.I.
Too Late to Mate
F**k You
Quickstep
Herb the Taxi Driver
Bonkers
The Rules
Monday, 5 March 2012
A Very Gooey Weekend
Every now and then a band comes along that just blows my mind. It's an exciting experience when I hear them for the first time, even more so when I happen to be in the same room as them when it's happening. So it is an absolute treat to actually be supporting such a band for two gigs this very weekend: The David Goo Variety Band.
Now, before you read any further, go look them up. They're on Facebook, they're on Youtube, they're on Google... very easy to find. Check 'em out and listen to some songs. It's okay, I don't mind waiting. I'll continue when you're finished. I assure you, if you like a good dose of humour, quirk and clever musicianship in your music you won't be disappointed.
Back? You know what I'm talking about then, yeah? Well, this weekend Moonlet and the Love Monks has the job of warming up the audience in preperation for them. This task is especially difficult on Friday since there's an undeniable air of ill feeling in the air. It's a vibe I can't explain, but it's palpable. This isn't helped by the fact that at least two of our number are 'ill feeling' in the very literal sense of the word. Dan and I are both coming down with stinking colds, but it's not just that. I think maybe it's just because I'm in a funny, overly-sensitive kind of mood... the kind of mood an artsy fartsy singer hiding sentimental messages behind pond life metaphors and penis euphamisms gets in sometimes.
Plus I'm hungry. No one likes me when I'm hungry.
We arrive at The Eden Project Cafe and meet David Goo and his merry band. Sound check gets under way without too much trouble and we go and sit down. Awash in my own, grey, monotone world I observe my surroundings. To my right, Roger is wrestling with a dilemma. He's caught between his two selves, locked in an internal conflict... you see, on one hand he would very much like one of the delicious looking flapjacks on sale at the desk as well as a delicious drink to wash it down... he's already verbally admitted that it would make him happier. However, on the other hand he's embarked on a healthy living kick and he's wondering if this particular indulgance would set him down a slippery slope.
To my left, Harry is slowly slipping down his portion of the sofa towards the floor. I'm not entirely sure why. In an attempt to amuse ourselves, Dan and I pull a table over the newly unseated Harry and adorn him with pepper pots, salt shakers and all manner of other table dressing. It seems to do the trick for a few minutes. Pictures are taken and laughter is shared. The two situations then quickly resolve themselves: Roger compromises with a glass of fresh lemonade and Harry gets back up onto the sofa. Ahead, Goo and co. are enjoying large bowls of hot stew.
I can't get that stew off of my mind. I really want a bowl. To my delight, it comes free to members of the band. In my sheer happiness, I lose myself in the bowl of deliciousness and forget to tell anyone else that it's free. Later on Dan finds out and he's none too happy about it. I guess it would have helped with his cold a bit but I just plumb forgot.
Our set goes by pretty uneventfully. There's some sort of problem with the lights and we spend the majority of our set playing in the dark. OK for us, but it isn't exactly setting a very entertaining or friendly tone and I think we probably fall a little flat in our aim to get the crowd sufficiently roused (actually, we do a better job than I initially thought but I'll get to that a little later on.) Personally, for me, the set tonight is a bit of a blur. I'm way too self conscious about the conspicious stew stains down the front of my shirt and a noticeable lack of lead guitar distortion makes everything feel a little bare. The band, under these circumstances do an admirable job, however. Each and every member around me play their parts efficiently and there's some good improv set in place to fill the gaps. Tonight I'm the weak link.
So when David Goo and his Variety Band hit the stage I have a complete breakdown in confidence. He is one of the best frontmen I've ever witnessed in the flesh. He has a way with the crowd that I've seen no local act match and one can immediately see what the big deal about this group is. Channelling the spirit of 70's Frank Zappa he commands the stage like it's his very own front living room. And for the first time since playing with my band I feel like I have no business being a frontman at all. For about 10 minutes I have serious reservations about being a live singer in any capacity.
Then the set gets really good and I forget where I am. Totally entranced I look on with a shit eating grin across my hairy mug. Somewhere in the haze I'm engaged by a girl I've idly been making eye contact with throughout the night. She makes a motion to invite me to dance but my confidence has been completely shaken tonight and I can't even begin to build myself back up... so I pretend I haven't seen her.
On the way back to the cars, however... a slight lift in spirits. A couple of slightly intoxicated ladies approach us. The slightly worse for wear of the two approaches me exclaiming:
"Oh my God, you're that band, aren't you?"
"Yeah, that's us."
"You're the singer aren't you? You're the short one, right?"
"The short one?"
"Yeah, you're like- Tom Cruise, aren't you?"
Hm. Not the best series of things I've been called, but then again, not the worst.
"You were better than that crazy man..." she slurs. In my mind I take that with a colossal pinch of salt, but it's very nice of her to say so. We converse a little more... mostly about peoples' heights for some reason... and then she and her friend stagger off home.
Saturday night's gig in Miss Peapods is a much brighter affair. Everyone seems to be in a much better mood and although my illness has gotten worse overnight, Dan seems to be on the upswing. Plus an old friend is in town who is seeing The Love Monks play for the first time, so I'm fairly excited to be playing tonight. Some of you who know us know that we've played Peapod's before and know that we always have a good time there, so tonight should be a complete turnaround.
Much less people in attendance at first and people only really begin showing up toward the back end of our set so I can't really say too much about that. We all play really well, I think, as I put on one of my better vocal performances. I wouldn't usually make such a deal of it, but considering the stinking cold slowly developing, this is somewhat of an anomoly.
Once again, David Goo reminds me how a good frontman is supposed to act, but tonight it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it did the night prior. A few of the Monks even get up for a quick dance during the latter portion of the gig. Harry's contribution to the nightly dance contest is certainly hilarious, although for some reason the quick one minute burst leaves him so knackered he immediately resolves to get back to the gym.
All in all, playing with DGVB has inspired the band, I think. We all want to get into writing more complex arrangements for future songs and some of Goo's vocal delivery has certainly gotten some ideas cooking in my head, so we'll see where it goes.
Setlist for 2/3/12:
Dayglow
Inspector Katz
Herb the Taxi Driver
Too Late to Mate
A Miskito Called James
Quickstep
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
D.U.I.
Chad
Lillipad Lover
Bonkers (cov)
The Rules
Setlist for 3/3/12:
Dayglow
Inspector Katz
Herb the Taxi Driver
Too Late to Mate
A Miskito Called James
Quickstep
D.U.I.
Chad
Lillipad Lover
Bonkers (cov)
The Rules
Now, before you read any further, go look them up. They're on Facebook, they're on Youtube, they're on Google... very easy to find. Check 'em out and listen to some songs. It's okay, I don't mind waiting. I'll continue when you're finished. I assure you, if you like a good dose of humour, quirk and clever musicianship in your music you won't be disappointed.
Back? You know what I'm talking about then, yeah? Well, this weekend Moonlet and the Love Monks has the job of warming up the audience in preperation for them. This task is especially difficult on Friday since there's an undeniable air of ill feeling in the air. It's a vibe I can't explain, but it's palpable. This isn't helped by the fact that at least two of our number are 'ill feeling' in the very literal sense of the word. Dan and I are both coming down with stinking colds, but it's not just that. I think maybe it's just because I'm in a funny, overly-sensitive kind of mood... the kind of mood an artsy fartsy singer hiding sentimental messages behind pond life metaphors and penis euphamisms gets in sometimes.
Plus I'm hungry. No one likes me when I'm hungry.
We arrive at The Eden Project Cafe and meet David Goo and his merry band. Sound check gets under way without too much trouble and we go and sit down. Awash in my own, grey, monotone world I observe my surroundings. To my right, Roger is wrestling with a dilemma. He's caught between his two selves, locked in an internal conflict... you see, on one hand he would very much like one of the delicious looking flapjacks on sale at the desk as well as a delicious drink to wash it down... he's already verbally admitted that it would make him happier. However, on the other hand he's embarked on a healthy living kick and he's wondering if this particular indulgance would set him down a slippery slope.
To my left, Harry is slowly slipping down his portion of the sofa towards the floor. I'm not entirely sure why. In an attempt to amuse ourselves, Dan and I pull a table over the newly unseated Harry and adorn him with pepper pots, salt shakers and all manner of other table dressing. It seems to do the trick for a few minutes. Pictures are taken and laughter is shared. The two situations then quickly resolve themselves: Roger compromises with a glass of fresh lemonade and Harry gets back up onto the sofa. Ahead, Goo and co. are enjoying large bowls of hot stew.
I can't get that stew off of my mind. I really want a bowl. To my delight, it comes free to members of the band. In my sheer happiness, I lose myself in the bowl of deliciousness and forget to tell anyone else that it's free. Later on Dan finds out and he's none too happy about it. I guess it would have helped with his cold a bit but I just plumb forgot.
Our set goes by pretty uneventfully. There's some sort of problem with the lights and we spend the majority of our set playing in the dark. OK for us, but it isn't exactly setting a very entertaining or friendly tone and I think we probably fall a little flat in our aim to get the crowd sufficiently roused (actually, we do a better job than I initially thought but I'll get to that a little later on.) Personally, for me, the set tonight is a bit of a blur. I'm way too self conscious about the conspicious stew stains down the front of my shirt and a noticeable lack of lead guitar distortion makes everything feel a little bare. The band, under these circumstances do an admirable job, however. Each and every member around me play their parts efficiently and there's some good improv set in place to fill the gaps. Tonight I'm the weak link.
So when David Goo and his Variety Band hit the stage I have a complete breakdown in confidence. He is one of the best frontmen I've ever witnessed in the flesh. He has a way with the crowd that I've seen no local act match and one can immediately see what the big deal about this group is. Channelling the spirit of 70's Frank Zappa he commands the stage like it's his very own front living room. And for the first time since playing with my band I feel like I have no business being a frontman at all. For about 10 minutes I have serious reservations about being a live singer in any capacity.
Then the set gets really good and I forget where I am. Totally entranced I look on with a shit eating grin across my hairy mug. Somewhere in the haze I'm engaged by a girl I've idly been making eye contact with throughout the night. She makes a motion to invite me to dance but my confidence has been completely shaken tonight and I can't even begin to build myself back up... so I pretend I haven't seen her.
On the way back to the cars, however... a slight lift in spirits. A couple of slightly intoxicated ladies approach us. The slightly worse for wear of the two approaches me exclaiming:
"Oh my God, you're that band, aren't you?"
"Yeah, that's us."
"You're the singer aren't you? You're the short one, right?"
"The short one?"
"Yeah, you're like- Tom Cruise, aren't you?"
Hm. Not the best series of things I've been called, but then again, not the worst.
"You were better than that crazy man..." she slurs. In my mind I take that with a colossal pinch of salt, but it's very nice of her to say so. We converse a little more... mostly about peoples' heights for some reason... and then she and her friend stagger off home.
Saturday night's gig in Miss Peapods is a much brighter affair. Everyone seems to be in a much better mood and although my illness has gotten worse overnight, Dan seems to be on the upswing. Plus an old friend is in town who is seeing The Love Monks play for the first time, so I'm fairly excited to be playing tonight. Some of you who know us know that we've played Peapod's before and know that we always have a good time there, so tonight should be a complete turnaround.
Much less people in attendance at first and people only really begin showing up toward the back end of our set so I can't really say too much about that. We all play really well, I think, as I put on one of my better vocal performances. I wouldn't usually make such a deal of it, but considering the stinking cold slowly developing, this is somewhat of an anomoly.
Once again, David Goo reminds me how a good frontman is supposed to act, but tonight it doesn't bother me nearly as much as it did the night prior. A few of the Monks even get up for a quick dance during the latter portion of the gig. Harry's contribution to the nightly dance contest is certainly hilarious, although for some reason the quick one minute burst leaves him so knackered he immediately resolves to get back to the gym.
All in all, playing with DGVB has inspired the band, I think. We all want to get into writing more complex arrangements for future songs and some of Goo's vocal delivery has certainly gotten some ideas cooking in my head, so we'll see where it goes.
Setlist for 2/3/12:
Dayglow
Inspector Katz
Herb the Taxi Driver
Too Late to Mate
A Miskito Called James
Quickstep
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
D.U.I.
Chad
Lillipad Lover
Bonkers (cov)
The Rules
Setlist for 3/3/12:
Dayglow
Inspector Katz
Herb the Taxi Driver
Too Late to Mate
A Miskito Called James
Quickstep
D.U.I.
Chad
Lillipad Lover
Bonkers (cov)
The Rules
Friday, 2 March 2012
Just Like Top of the Pops
It’s been almost a week since our gig at Studio Bar and I’ve been both incredibly lazy and surprisingly busy, so you’ll have to forgive me if this entry is a little hazy on the ol’ details. I am a bad person and shall endeavour to do better in the future, I kind of half promise. Depends on how I feel next time I have to do this.
We arrive at the venue nice and early to figure out what’s going on. You see, for better or for worse, no one in the band seems to know what’s going on tonight. I myself am even unsure we’re heading towards the right building, but that probably tells you more about how clued in *I* am than the band as a whole. But it is true that no one’s really sure if we’re even going to be playing before the night is through. With this in mind, early seems best and we arrive at the designated venue to find the doors locked, the lights out and a rather ominous looking For Sale sign hanging from one of the walls.
Knock, knock, knock. Nobody home. It’s currently about… I don’t know… 7 o’clock? Show starts at around half 9 to 10 o’clock, so we’re a little perturbed by this. Oh well, let’s just stuff ourselves with fried chicken until the problem goes away. About 8 o’clock we roll back down and still there’s not a soul in sight. Starting to think there’s been a mix up and we’re actually walking around Penzance without a place to be. We shuffle off somewhere to hide until somebody comes to save us.
And believe it or not, somebody does. At the very last minute we get the call to come on down and do a gig. They sure know how to make a band sweat and I wonder silently if that’s part of their plan to get the blood pumping just a bit faster. It’s probably not and if I had said that out loud I’d look like an idiot, so silently I wonder.
We arrive at the venue and start to set up. It’s all very psychedelically lit with all the primary colours swirling into secondary colours and the ceiling shimmering as if we’re under water. The stage is thrust out to face in two directions with enough space for people to gather round, sing and dance a bit.
Just like Top of the Pops.
The show starts around 10 and it’s all very cosy. The band are packed together, the crowd are all up very close and I can hear clearly all the mutterings for us to ‘get on with it’ every time I take a moment to start spewing my complete and utter nonsense to anyone unfortunate enough to listen. Despite a rocky start and some good natured heckling, we finally find our groove and put on one hell of a performance, if I do say so myself. The more people have to drink, the better we start to look and sound (ah, such is life) and I think everyone has had a good time. There is a rather funny moment of synchronicity between band and audience during the final song of the encore, Quickstep. As the dynamics of the song shift (and they tend to do, a lot) so do the movements of everybody on the floor.
Just like Top of the Pops…?
By the time we reach the climax, the whole floor bursts into life in a moment that quite honestly sends chills up and down my arms. Top THAT, next gig!
Unfortunately my lack of preparation for a long, unbroken set causes a few setbacks. The lack of fluid that usually adorns the space around my feet means that by the time I’m due to go and say hello, all that emits from my throat is a series of hoarse grunts, squeaks and the
odd remnant of something that was probably at one point or another a word. It’s all very embarrassing when you’re trying to network. How can somebody who seems to have it more or less together on stage be such an incomprehensible, sweaty wreck in conversation?
Yeah, yeah “you’re an incomprehensible, sweaty wreck ON stage too!” Har de har de har.
Bit of a jolly in Penzance afterwards. Zeno, his girlfriend and I go clubbing if you can believe it? Those who know me know I don’t fare well in the clubbing scene. I think I do rather well all told. It helps that the place we head off to is 50 percent crazy and 50 percent people trying to cater their wares to crazy people. On the dance floor I observe, amongst other things, a cavalcade of the most amazing hairstyles I’ve ever bore witness to and the heart breaking sight of someone dancing alone whilst wishing they could be absolutely anywhere else in the world.
Just like Top of the Pops.
Setlist for 24/2/12:
Lillipad Lover
Inspector Katz
F**k You (cov)
Mr. Dinosaur
Herb the Taxi Driver
Goose in 4D
Love is in the Sole
Made With Love
Dayglow
A Miskito Called James
Hey Ya (cov)
Chad
Mary the Snowdeer
Rubber Ball
Pirate (in my Heart)
Quickstep
My Voice
D.U.I.
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
Too Late to Mate
---
Bonkers (cov)
The Rules
Herb the Taxi Driver (reprise)
Quickstep (Reprise)
We arrive at the venue nice and early to figure out what’s going on. You see, for better or for worse, no one in the band seems to know what’s going on tonight. I myself am even unsure we’re heading towards the right building, but that probably tells you more about how clued in *I* am than the band as a whole. But it is true that no one’s really sure if we’re even going to be playing before the night is through. With this in mind, early seems best and we arrive at the designated venue to find the doors locked, the lights out and a rather ominous looking For Sale sign hanging from one of the walls.
Knock, knock, knock. Nobody home. It’s currently about… I don’t know… 7 o’clock? Show starts at around half 9 to 10 o’clock, so we’re a little perturbed by this. Oh well, let’s just stuff ourselves with fried chicken until the problem goes away. About 8 o’clock we roll back down and still there’s not a soul in sight. Starting to think there’s been a mix up and we’re actually walking around Penzance without a place to be. We shuffle off somewhere to hide until somebody comes to save us.
And believe it or not, somebody does. At the very last minute we get the call to come on down and do a gig. They sure know how to make a band sweat and I wonder silently if that’s part of their plan to get the blood pumping just a bit faster. It’s probably not and if I had said that out loud I’d look like an idiot, so silently I wonder.
We arrive at the venue and start to set up. It’s all very psychedelically lit with all the primary colours swirling into secondary colours and the ceiling shimmering as if we’re under water. The stage is thrust out to face in two directions with enough space for people to gather round, sing and dance a bit.
Just like Top of the Pops.
The show starts around 10 and it’s all very cosy. The band are packed together, the crowd are all up very close and I can hear clearly all the mutterings for us to ‘get on with it’ every time I take a moment to start spewing my complete and utter nonsense to anyone unfortunate enough to listen. Despite a rocky start and some good natured heckling, we finally find our groove and put on one hell of a performance, if I do say so myself. The more people have to drink, the better we start to look and sound (ah, such is life) and I think everyone has had a good time. There is a rather funny moment of synchronicity between band and audience during the final song of the encore, Quickstep. As the dynamics of the song shift (and they tend to do, a lot) so do the movements of everybody on the floor.
Just like Top of the Pops…?
By the time we reach the climax, the whole floor bursts into life in a moment that quite honestly sends chills up and down my arms. Top THAT, next gig!
Unfortunately my lack of preparation for a long, unbroken set causes a few setbacks. The lack of fluid that usually adorns the space around my feet means that by the time I’m due to go and say hello, all that emits from my throat is a series of hoarse grunts, squeaks and the
odd remnant of something that was probably at one point or another a word. It’s all very embarrassing when you’re trying to network. How can somebody who seems to have it more or less together on stage be such an incomprehensible, sweaty wreck in conversation?
Yeah, yeah “you’re an incomprehensible, sweaty wreck ON stage too!” Har de har de har.
Bit of a jolly in Penzance afterwards. Zeno, his girlfriend and I go clubbing if you can believe it? Those who know me know I don’t fare well in the clubbing scene. I think I do rather well all told. It helps that the place we head off to is 50 percent crazy and 50 percent people trying to cater their wares to crazy people. On the dance floor I observe, amongst other things, a cavalcade of the most amazing hairstyles I’ve ever bore witness to and the heart breaking sight of someone dancing alone whilst wishing they could be absolutely anywhere else in the world.
Just like Top of the Pops.
Setlist for 24/2/12:
Lillipad Lover
Inspector Katz
F**k You (cov)
Mr. Dinosaur
Herb the Taxi Driver
Goose in 4D
Love is in the Sole
Made With Love
Dayglow
A Miskito Called James
Hey Ya (cov)
Chad
Mary the Snowdeer
Rubber Ball
Pirate (in my Heart)
Quickstep
My Voice
D.U.I.
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
Too Late to Mate
---
Bonkers (cov)
The Rules
Herb the Taxi Driver (reprise)
Quickstep (Reprise)
Sunday, 19 February 2012
Just B-Careful
There’s an unpleasant feeling of agitation in the air tonight as our merry band of misfits are bound for the north to play Plymouth Barbican’s esteemed B-Bar. I can’t shake the feeling from the night prior that there could possibly be too much Joe to take in one solid block. It’s true that I’m starting to get sick of the sound of my own voice wittering on like a demented cockerel in the midst of an eternal sunrise and if it’s bothering me then I shudder to think what it must be doing to everyone else. Before getting in the car I make a pact with myself to shut the hell up a bit, but I can’t help myself and before long I’m warbling and bickering away with Dan and Harry like always.
On arrival, we get a little bit lost. The roads of Plymouth are a little different to the roads of Cornwall and the birds of ill omen are chirping. A road related incident will take place later on tonight and it will be totally unfair and it will piss everyone well and truly off. It will be such an irritating and deflating turn of affairs for someone in particular that when it happens, I decide I won’t be blogging about it in any detail because to do so would be both aggravating and pointless. But it will happen.
Eventually we feel our way blindly to the entrance of B-Bar. Now, those damned birds must be chirping again because for the first time I discover that B-Bar is in fact a noodle bar, with a stage most likely designed for journeyman singer songwriters and quaint three piece dinner Jazz bands. It definitely is not the venue or stage for a five piece, fully kitted out, double bass wielding bunch of delinquents such as ourselves. Standing in the middle of cascading red velvet curtains, ambient mood lighting and surrounded by candlelit tables, I feel more like a travelling troupe of magicians than musicians.
Not that I’m bitter. No, seriously I’m not. Seriously! I don’t blame anyone for the mismatch. I’m grateful we could play and I would happily play there again. I’m a happy person!
Seriously!
Case and point, the gig itself is actually a lot of fun. The sound engineer is particularly friendly. I can’t help but notice to my amusement that the more gear we drag in from outside, the more nervous he starts to look, especially when the double bass makes its appearance. Of course, by some miracle and not a small amount of creative space management, we cram into the small stage with a surprising amount of room to move around. And like I said, the gig is actually a lot of fun. The Goose Dance goes down particularly well, even if my strangely subdued audience banter does not. I attribute it to the atmosphere that the room demanded as opposed to any sort of shortcoming of my own part because I’m amazing and if you don’t agree I hate you and I’m not playing anymore!
I almost lose my cool to a fit of the giggles on a couple of occasions during the show. Firstly because of an accidental pronunciation of my own that nobody else notices but me (Everybody wuvs you…) and secondly because during a particularly energetic, upbeat number… I can’t remember which… I look down to the very front table (where the bands’ long suffering friends and significant others sit) and see the whole lot of them looking bored out of their minds. I don’t blame them, they’ve seen so many of our shows by now it must be terribly dull, but I can’t help but feel amused by the whole thing. In a way it lends a sublime sort of absurdity to the whole thing which really appeals to my sense of humour.
Sadly, by the shows end, I’m tired, I’m hungry and the whole mood of the band is on the floor thanks to the aforementioned vehicular misunderstanding. When I finally stagger through the door, I make myself some tinned hotdog sandwiches to satiate my insane hunger. When I discover that the mustard jar is empty, I almost want to cry. I’m certainly not in the mood to fill out a blog entry, by any stretch of the imagination.
I’m happy to now, though. See? I am a happy person!
Setlist for 17/2/12:
Lillipad Lover
Inspector Katz
Forget You (cover)
Mr. Dinosaur
Herb the Taxi Driver
Love is in the Sole
Goose in 4D
Made With Love
Dayglow
A Miskito Called James
--
Hey Ya (cover)
Chad
Mary the Snowdeer, I Hate You
Pirate (In My Heart)
Quickstep
My Voice
Rubber Ball
D.U.I.
David Bryant Tried to Section and Kill Me
Too Late to Mate
--
Bonkers (cover)
The Rules
Friday, 17 February 2012
"I ain't dissing, man!"
Thursday is student night in the town of Falmouth. Or it's Monday. Different people within the band circle say different things but no one can definitely say for sure. So it's a roll of the dice... tonight will either be absolutely rammed or a ghost town. Turns out it's a little of both. But before we get to that, we spend the day running through the set. This always turns out to be a big mistake since I make the classic mistake of A) never learning how to sing well and (as a result) B) blowing my voice before the gig. So as you might guess, on arrival I’m not optimistic.
Although as a member of the band you’d never guess. I revert to my usual behaviour in these situations. I speak in a stupid half hoarse, half squeaky voice and annoy the hell out of everyone with inane banter about absolutely nothing. It’s a curious defense mechanism that stops people from knowing that I’m resigning myself once again to that one special gig that will earn the title ‘worst of my entire life.’ Luckily, it never quite turns out that way. Touch wood.
Um. What the shit am I talking about again? Oh, yeah.
It’s a ghost town on arrival. And I don’t mean the venue, Finn M’Couls. I’m talking Falmouth. The most energetic joint in the whole of town is the local branch of Tesco and not a soul walks the usually vibrant street. The room itself is dotted with one or two patrons sat at the bar and none of them look like they’re in the mood for our particular brand of animal rock and tales of vaguely ridiculous human drama. Surely our stories of Geese traversing the rift between dimensional planes and frogs who can’t quite pluck up the courage to make their feelings known won’t quite hit the spot here. I can already imagine the ones about the perverted gigolo taxi driver and the little man who couldn’t going down like a tonne of bricks in a sauna.
But the reception, as always, is surprisingly warm. And the place fills up, which is always a bonus. And so it goes. The first set is pretty much business as usual, despite the fact that my voice is a little rough. A few energetic revelers hit the joint. I announce the beginning of Mr. Dinosaur which is met with a hearty ‘ROAR!!’ It turns out one of the revelers is in the mood to re-enact every word in every song of this particular set. The whole thing is a curious mixture of heartwarming, hilarious, awkward and scary. Sadly they leave and the second set begins almost from scratch. Thankfully a few faithful hangers on and long term fans have stuck around and they make it worthwhile. But the fun doesn’t stop.
Someone has been eyeing up my spoon all night. I wish I could say that was a coy euphemism of some kind but it really isn’t. She grabs the spoon and proceeds to hit my triangle loudly, often and totally without listening to the song around it. This seems to attract the previously less brave amongst the audience. Somehow… and believe me I have no idea how… a fork makes its way to the front of the stage. The song comes to its conclusion in a cacophony of cutlery on steel, despite my best efforts to rid myself of every piece of percussion.
She later tries to steal my megaphone. I’m having none of it and I whisk it away at the last second. She seems legitimately offended and doesn’t speak to me for the rest of the night.
And so we head staggering into the last few songs of the set. The singing is terrible and I’m not even sure I’m listening to the words I’m singing anymore. But we make it through and say our warm goodbyes. Packing up, we head outside. What was previously Dresden without the mess is now a hub of student activity. A bunch of cavewomen, ET (complete with bike), a couple of bin bags, a smattering of superheroes and Julius Caesar walk by. I take to pointing everyone out to Roger and explaining how their outfits are chic. Examples being cavewoman chic, bin bag chic, etc. A girl dressed as someone from Sparta walks past. A brief exchange takes place where I shout Sparta chic to Roger. She responds with what I believe to be an order ‘not to diss’ her outfit. I respond with what I think the appropriate response is. I’m later told the actual turn of events. They go thus:
“Sparta chic!”
“Good guess!”
“I ain’t dissin’, man!”
I’m so smooth it’s starting to scare me.
I’m an annoying git on the car journey home. Hoarse, squeaky voice talking absolute nonsense all the way from Falmouth to Camborne. Sorry, everyone!
---
Setlist for 16/2/12
TBA
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